Moves Like Lewis
by OfficerFishKyle
Summary: One-shot; Kyle and Oliver have some flirty fun on laundry day.


A/N: This slice-of-life one-shot is in line continuity-wise with my stalled ongoing, "Our Live to Live", and therefore takes place at the boys' house in Cherryvale during the summer of 2010. Also, I always imagined the unnamed pop song is "Moves Like Jagger" by Maroon 5, but feel free to plug in any tune you'd like.

" **Moves Like Lewis"**

Over Sierra Rose's squeals of delight as she pushed the brightly colored beads around her toy maze, Kyle Lewis faintly heard the dryer buzzing in the distance as it finished its cycle.

"C'mon, munchkin, laundry's done," Kyle announced, getting to his feet. Sierra looked up at him with wide eyes and then, with a flirtatious giggle, stretched her tiny hands towards him. Having cracked that code long ago, he bent down and scooped her into his arms, letting out a small grunt for his efforts. Sierra was getting bigger every day, crawling all the time now. She'd be walking before they knew it.

The small laundry room was at the far end of the house, a warm August breeze blowing through the cracked open door that led to the backyard. Kyle set Sierra down in an empty laundry basket on the floor before turning to the task at hand. He first pulled a bundle of bibs and towels from the dryer and dropped them on top of it to fold. Yanking Sierra's beloved blankie free, he draped the warm pink cloth around her shoulders like a superhero cape and she let out an adorable shriek of happiness.

"Man oh man, how can there be this much already?" Kyle muttered to himself as he started tossing the wet clothes from the washing machine into the dryer. Of all the chores that came with owning a house and raising a child, laundry by far was his least favorite. It felt unending in a way mowing the lawn or putting away Sierra's toys never did.

Always had, too. Most of the homes he'd grown up in hadn't had washing machines, which meant long, boring days at the laundromat. And during his college years, like most boys his age on their own for the first time, he'd let himself get real lazy about it.

He remembered, chuckling at the memory, this time junior year he had convinced Oliver to sneak back to the house while their ΚΑΔ brothers were still at a mixer with ΖΒΖ. He had thought he was such hot shit, making Oliver watch with naked anticipation as he sexily unbuckled his belt, spun around, slowly slid his jeans down his legs.

Boisterous laughter from his lover, however, was definitely not the reaction he'd been expecting. Only then had Kyle realized that he was wearing a pair of dirty boxers inside out. Knowing the teasing he was in for if he didn't act quickly, Kyle had shrugged off the blush of embarrassment he felt and playfully pounced on Oliver, to mute him with his mouth. Had worked like a charm. Ended up being such a great night, he hadn't even minded being ribbed about his recycled draws the next few days.

Oliver…Kyle knew it was silly to miss him. It was just one of those weeks when they were on opposing schedules, out the door before the other was up, asleep when the other was getting home from work. But it wasn't enough for Kyle to sleep next to him and feel the ghost of a kiss on his forehead in the morning. He needed Oliver's eyes, Oliver's lips, Oliver's…well, all of Oliver. But for now, he'd have to make due with his musky shirts.

"Last load, thank god," Kyle announced as he heaped a lump of jeans and underwear, scrubs and police uniforms into the washer. He was just about to close the lid when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something on the ratty grey tee he was wearing. He examined the discolored spot, pulling the fabric closer to his face. It was probably baby food or baby spit or baby…ewww.

"Where'd this come from, huh?" he quizzed his little girl, glancing down where she was sitting. Kyle's eyes were greeted with a lump of pink fabric, underneath which Sierra was babbling merrily. His mild annoyance eradicated by her charm offensive, Kyle smiled as he slipped his shirt off over his head and tossed it in with the rest of the laundry.

Twisting the start knob on the machine, he absentmindedly patted his bare stomach with his free hand and was pleased to feel some muscle rippling beneath the skin. Time to work out came few and far between these days, but his new habit of taking the stairs at the hospital whenever he could and doing crunches on his break seemed to be paying off.

"Let me get these folded, munchkin, and then I'll make us some lunch," Kyle informed his daughter over his shoulder. No hurry, it seemed, for Sierra, who continued to amuse herself with her blankie. Suddenly in the mood for some music, Kyle reached up to the wall shelf and flicked on the small radio sitting next to the fabric softener.

"Niiice, I love this song," Kyle exclaimed as a bouncy pop tune filled the room. As he started sorting the mass of clean linens and towels, he began whistling the lyrics and it wasn't long before his body started unconsciously swaying back-and-forth to the music.

A burst of baby giggles interrupted Kyle's impromptu dance fugue. He noticed Sierra had emerged from her blanket cocoon and was now watching him with a "You're goofy!" grin on her face, her little hands clapping along to the beat.

"Ohhh, you think Daddy looks pretty silly, huh?" Kyle cooed in a sing-song voice, leaning down to tap a finger against his daughter's nose. "Face it, Sierra. You're gonna be the girl in high school who's always getting grief from her friends about how hot her dads are." The raspberry she snorted in response made Kyle laugh.

He cranked the music up and, abandoning all pretense that he was still doing his household chores, started dancing, cutting loose like he was out at a club and not home in a suburban laundry room. Grinding his hips. Running his hands over his bare torso. Wigging his butt against an imaginary partner. It was fun.

The song eventually came to an end, a commercial taking its place. Dialing the volume down, he spun back towards Sierra, to see her reaction. But Sierra wasn't paying attention to him anymore. She was looking past Kyle with a particular overjoyed expression on her adorable face. He'd know that look anywhere, it meant only one thing. "Daddy's home!"

That realization had barely sunk in when Kyle felt, from behind him, a familiar set of arms wrap around his waist. Familiar lips burrowing into the side of his neck. And a familiar piece of steel poking him in the rear. Not to mention the service revolver that was pressing into his back.

"If Sierra wasn't staring at us right now…" the husky, unmistakable voice of Oliver Fish breathed in his ear, the sexy threat left dangling. The blood in Kyle's body didn't know whether to blush his skin or head south of the border.

"How, um, long have you been standing there?" he quizzed Oliver.

"Long enough." Kyle could hear the playful smirk in Oliver's tone. "So what, you planning a comeback on the cowboy stripper circuit?"

"Hardy har," Kyle snarked back, lightly jabbing Oliver in the stomach. Chuckling, his boyfriend broke their embrace and leaned down to pick up Sierra, who was squealing for attention from her fathers. Just then, Kyle caught a whiff of something good coming from the kitchen. "Is that the Thai chicken wrap from Gordon's I smell?"

"Sure is," Oliver confirmed as he showered Sierra with kisses. "It was slow at the station so I decided to grab us some grub and come spend my break with my two favorite people. Hate weeks like this, Kyle, when we barely get to see each other. As dumb as it sounds...I've missed you."

"I'm a missable guy." Kyle smiled big, delighted by Oliver's confession, that he felt the same way about being apart. He planted a light smooch on his cheek. "You're the best, Oli. And your timing is perfect because I'm starving. Why don't you get the princess here set up at the table while I go grab a shirt." Kyle moved to go past him, but Oliver jumped in his way.

"You don't, uh, haaave to put one on, do you?" Oliver asked. His eyes twinkled naughtily as he raked them over Kyle's upper body. Guess those extra workouts had been paying off, Kyle thought to himself.

"Nah," Kyle conceded, ever-so-innocently letting one of his hands rub across his chest and down his stomach. "I guess not." The way Oliver's face lit up was priceless.

They caught up with each other as they ate, talking about Oliver's day, about the solo procedure Kyle had gotten to do the night before at the hospital, about this or that cute thing Sierra had done while the other wasn't around. And the whole time, Oliver kept looking at him with this wanton desire that sent a cocky sizzle through Kyle's spine.

"Ugh, I don't want to go back to work," Oliver pouted once they had finished their food. He rose from his seat and gave Sierra a goodbye peck. "Can't you write me a note, Dr. Lewis?"

"I wish," Kyle answered honestly as he walked Oliver to the front door. "But just a couple more hours and then, miracle of miracles, neither of us has another shift to worry about until Sunday night."

"Hey, that's right," Oliver said, his mood immediately improving. "Say, maybe when I get home tonight, after Sierra goes to bed, you could do that sexy dance of yours again for me? Buuut," he went on with his request, hooking his fingers into the loops on Kyle's jeans and tugging him closer, "without these on?"

"I think that can be arranged," Kyle replied saucily, snaking his arms around Oliver's neck. "But only if you dance with me." Oliver answered by closing the last bit of distance between them and pulling Kyle into a deep kiss that felt like it lasted for days.

"It's a date," Oliver murmured when their lips finally parted. With that promise, and one final heated look that managed to be both loving and lecherous, he headed out of the house.

The door had no sooner clicked shut behind Oliver when the timer on the dryer once again sounded. Exhaling a happy sigh, Kyle went to answer its call, pausing to plant a smooch on Sierra's head as he passed her high chair.

"Don't you just love laundry day!"


End file.
